There's not a speck of blue on him!
by Qwertzu824
Summary: Jazz found an abandoned Praxian sparkling in an alleyway. How will Prowl react? And why the pit is his designation Bluestreak if there's not a speck of blue on him? Bluestreak origin fic. Established ProwlxJazz relationship
1. Chapter 1

It was a routine, rather boring patrol. Jazz wasn't really a patrol mech. Sneaking up on the enemy, undercover missions, sabotage, crazy stunts – that's what he craved. But _patrols? _What a drag! And he didn't even have a partner to annoy! Okay, it was a part of his punishment – Imposter knew very well how Jazz hated lone patrols. It was unlikely that he would encounter anything even remotely interesting. Despite the increasingly difficult times and energon deficiency, crime rate in Iacon was still fairly minimal during daytime. At least he had his radio to listen to, which made things a little more bearable. Swaying his hips to the beat he tried to stay positive as his optics, hidden behind a visor, scanned the surroundings. Only three more joors to go and he would be free!

Out of habit he slowed down when passing an abandoned alleyway and decreased the volume of his internal radio. He performed a little dance to mask the fact that he was scrutinizing the place. Unsurprisingly, he found nothing unusual. Oh well, it had been worth a try... _Wait, what was that?_ Without dropping the act he danced into the alleyway; his radio offline now and his audios on maximum sensitivity. _There!_ It sounded like a whimper. He switched his visor to thermovision. There was only one heat signature on the deserted street. He looked around; nobot was watching him. Carefully he approached the source of the heat. It was hidden from the view by several large containers. A sob reached his audios. It sounded so _young..._ Jazz's visor reset in surprise as he finally saw the sparkling. It was a small grey mechlet with red chevron and probably blue optics – hard to tell, they were white with static right now. His doorwings – _doorwings!_ – drooped sadly as he hugged his knees and sobbed. A _Praxian_ sparkling! _Rusted pit,_ Praxus fell but five vorns ago and there were only three Praxians left – those who weren't there at the time! The little one appeared to be around six, maybe seven – could it be that he was a survivor? No, that was unlikely, the firing squad was nothing if not thorough. The poor thing had probably been visiting his friends or something at the time... It took him a while to notice Jazz but when he did he curled up to a tight ball and tried to make himself look smaller. He was trembling as he mentally tried to blend with the wall behind him. Jazz quickly stepped back and crouched to appear non-threatening.

"Hey," he said softly with a smile. "Hello there, little mech, m' name's Jazz. I'm not gonna hurt ya," he cooed. The sparkling looked at him suspiciously, evidently not used to kindness from strangers. "Are ya lost?" A shake of the tiny helm. "Oh, Ah know! Would ya like an energon goodie?" Reaching to his subspace he took out a sweet rusty tungsten bar. Not quite healthy but very yummy. Another mistrustful, slightly scared look. Jazz stilled, offering the goodie on his open palm for the little one to take. The Praxian mechlet looked like he wanted to refuse but his empty tank rumbled in hunger. Evidently that decided it. Optics locked on Jazz, he carefully uncurled from his position. Collecting his courage, he snatched the goodie and promptly curled back. He seemed surprised that no punishment followed. Taking a bite of the bar his optics brightened in shock. It was _good!_

Jazz smiled as he watched the tiny Praxian devour the tungsten bar. It was a smile filled with sadness; his spark was bleeding for the hungry mechlet. The poor thing was probably abandoned – hungry, dirty, scratched, with dull paintjob. The energon goodie disappeared in a record time and the little one's tank rumbled again.

"How 'bout we get ya a fresh cube of energon, hmm?" The mini-Prowl looked at him with tentative hope. "There's a park nearby, they're sellin' energon. Come with meh?"

Little doorwings fluttered pensively. The sparkling didn't trust adults. Adults were mean. But this stranger, Jazz, had been kind to him so far – didn't hit him, didn't even yell at him and gave him yummy food! What was the worst that could happen? Oh yes, he could get beaten. It wouldn't be the first time. But if he ran quickly enough and hid at his secret place... Determined, he stood up, waited for the world to stop spinning and accepted Jazz's servo.

It was a short walk to the park. There were many sparklings running around, playing and generally making ruckus, like they were bound to do. The little one holding his servo should be there among them, not hiding hungry in deserted alleyways, Jazz thought. The tiny doorwings fluttered and rose but despite having a Praxian lover Jazz couldn't quite decipher the meaning of the gesture. Oh, he couldn't wait to see Prowl's face when he saw the sparkling!

They stopped by an energon stand he bought a cube of low grade.

"Drink slowly or your fuel tank might hurt," Jazz warned the mechlet but the little Praxian didn't really heed him, gulping down the fresh fuel. _Primus, how long it had been since he last refuelled?_ He barely finished the thought before the half full cube dropped from the sparkling's servos. The mechlet clutched his stomach and doubled over, purging the ingested energon from his system.

With lightning fast reflexes Jazz caught his offline frame before it could slump forward onto the purge-stained ground. Out of yet another reflex he grabbed the fallen cube with a free servo and sniffed it carefully. It didn't smell strange, the colour was right too... He took a small sip. It was just a regular low grade. That only left one possibility – the sparkling's system had to be damaged.

"What are you staring at? Help me load him in!" he shouted at the stunned bystanders.

Somebody took the sparkling from his servos to let him transform and loaded the mechlet inside him.

Barely remembering to send a subsonic warning for other vehicles to get out of his way, he broke his own speed records to get to the hospital. As an enforcer he would get away with it and as a not-quite-legal racer he could pull it off but he still thanked Primus the roads were relatively empty.

Jazz pulled off at the entrance to the hospital and opened his doors. A nearby medical assistant immediately rushed to see if he needed help and carefully lifted the tiny Praxian. Jazz briefly thanked him as he transformed, took the sparkling and ran inside the building.

–.–.–.–.–


	2. Chapter 2

"The waiting room is on the right," the receptionist barely lifted her helm to look at them.

"This is an emergency!"

She raised an optical ridge sceptically. "Are you a medic? No? In that case you are not qualified to judge that. Please sit down and wait for a medic to attend to you."

The saboteur forced his ventilation online to prevent system overheating from a massive wave of anger. "Look," he said, trying to sound calm, "this abandoned sparkling barely drank half a cube of low grade, purged his tank and fell offline for no apparent reason."

"Overreacting creators... He's not the first sparkling to purge his tank after drinking a stale cube, you know. Now if could please sit down and–"

"Haven't ya heard me!?" Jazz couldn't help it, his patience was snapping. "He's not recharging_, he's offline! _He needs immediate medical attention!_ What the frag is wrong with ya?_" Her creator protocols had to be glitching! Jazz didn't even realize he was yelling until the femme flinched. _Good_, he though vengefully.

"What's going on here?" a new voice growled. Jazz turned to see a white and red chevronned bot with medic's decals on his upper servos. He looked pretty irritated. "You're in a hospital! I won't tolerate shouting in here!"

Jazz flinched but held up the mechlet in his servos in answer. "He suddenly fell offline after purging his tank an' _she_ is telling meh t' _wait_." The bevisored enforcer was starting to calm down now that a medic was there to look at the Praxian. Medics had it in their core programming to help. They couldn't refuse, especially not when a sparkling was concerned.

The medic swiftly plugged a scanner into the mechlet's wrist port. "I don't suppose you're his creator?" he asked for the record, looking at Jazz's enforcer decals. It was fairly evident the sparkling hadn't been cared for, Primus knows for how long, and enforcers weren't exactly prone to mistreat younglings.

"No. He seems ta be homeless. Ah found him crying in an alleyway an' bought him a cube of low grade. He barely had a few sips before purging an' offlining," Jazz explained as the scanner beeped.

The chevronned bot studied the screen with expressionless face but Jazz could _feel_ him tense. Out of nowhere, he unsubspaced a wrench and _banged_ the femme's helm, leaving a sizeable dent. "His condition is _critical_, you glitch!" he snapped, took the little Praxian from the stunned saboteur's servos and _ran_. They stopped by the lifts but the medic evidently wasn't patient enough to wait and took stairs to the second floor.

After several turns they entered what looked like an operating room. The mechlet was put on the table and the medic began to prepare several scary looking instruments. He didn't say a word. Just as Jazz was about to ask what was wrong with the sparkling, the door opened. An angry blue medic _glared_ at the white and red bot.

"Ratchet, which part of 'go get some rest or you're fired' did you not understand? And what did I hear about you denting Quickcall? You are aware–"

"_Not now, _Patch! This sparkling's fuel tank is ruptured. Help me save his life or _frag off!_" Ratchet snapped as he put a stasis band on the little patient's helm above the red chevron.

The second medic, Patch, walked in and stood on the other side of the table. "What do I do?" he asked as crimson fingers began cutting the grey abdominal plating with a laser scalpel.

Jazz must have made a sound because both medics suddenly turned their helms to look at him.

"Out!" Ratchet barked with so much authority Jazz didn't even _think_ of disobeying the order.

* * *

Thrown out of the operating room Jazz pulled himself together and remembered that he should probably call the headquarters to let them know he wasn't going to finish his patrol. He found a private communication booth and entered his officer's code to secure the line.

"Hey there, Jazzbot!" Blaster's smiling face filled the screen. "What can I do for you?"

"Blaster, m' mech, Ah need t' talk ta somebot in charge of patrols."

"Your wish is my command," Blaster winked and connected him to Prowl.

"Jazz, why are you calling from a hospital? Are you alright?" White and black doorwings rose in alarm.

"Ah'm fine, Prowler," Jazz reassured his partner with a dazzling smile.

"Jazz," the Praxian sighed, "how many times do I have to tell you that I do not appreciate you calling me that, especially on duty?"

"Oops, sorry!" he said with a sheepish smile, at the same time sending a message via their private comm. line. ::Sorry, sparklet::

It only earned him another exasperated sigh. "Why are you calling?"

For the third time that orn, Jazz described what happened. "Ah would like ta stay in ta hospital, if that's 'kay."

"I see. I'll have Baton and Speedstar finish your patrol."

"Thanks, mech!" ::Love ya::

::I love you too:: "Is there anything else?"

Jazz hesitated. He wanted to tell Prowl the sparkling was Praxian but Ratchet implied his life was in danger and Jazz didn't want his love to hurt if the mechlet died. His entire city had been wiped out. Even counting the little one, there were only four Praxians left. To see another one, not to mention an innocent mechlet, deactivate... It would crush Prowl's spark (and Jazz's too). No, it would be best if Prowler wasn't aware of it.

"Nope, have a nice shift!" he waved and disconnected the call, missing how Prowl's optics dimmed in suspicion.

* * *

Prowl, on the other hand, didn't miss his partner's hesitation. There was something Jazz had omitted to tell him. Prowl wondered why. Maybe Jazz preferred telling him in person? He tried to run an analysis to guess what information the saboteur had withheld but it was no use, he had too little input. Absently he assigned a part of his processor to deal with datapads and reports (those processes were so simple and routine they hardly required much capacity) and thought about the other black and white mech. The way Jazz smiled, the way moved, the way he spoke... Their first date...

"_You just enjoy embarrassing me, don't you?"_

"_Yep, Ah do! Ya're cute when ya're embarrassed!"_

"_I am not cute."_

"_Ya bet ya are! Ya're definitely the cutest an' most gorgeous thing on two pedes Ah've ever seen – and yes, this _is_ 'n invitation for a date."_

Prowl finished his shift with a smile but stayed overtime to deal with eight additional reports which hadn't been submitted to him on time. Contented that everything had been taken care of, he drove to the hospital. Jazz's enforcer location beacon showed that he was still there, though Prowl was sure visiting hours were over. Thankfully the traffic wasn't too bad despite the shift change and soon he was standing before the information counter.

"I'm sorry but the visiting hours..." for some reason the brightly coloured mech trailed off when he finally looked up from the computer screen. "Second floor, Sector A. It's on the right hand side when you exit the lift."

Prowl's tactical centre went into overdrive as he tried to figure out the seemingly illogical statement. He hadn't even told the mech what he wanted! Maybe the purple and orange bot was a telepath? Unlikely, telepaths were extremely rare and certainly didn't work as receptionists. It would be a waste of their unique talent. _My enforcer decals_, he suddenly realized. Jazz also had them and it would be a logical conclusion for the mech to assume he came looking for his colleague. Satisfied now, he thanked the mech and followed his instructions.

He found Jazz recharging in a chair. The black and white saboteur looked tired and Prowl didn't want to wake him up but chairs were highly uncomfortable to recharge in and he would online all sore (Prowl would know). Besides, it was time for their evening ration.

"Are you the sparkling's creator?" a very hostile voice asked as he was about to gently shake his partner awake.

He turned to see a white and red medic. _If looks could kill_... "No, I'm not. What makes you assume that?"

Much to his surprise, the glare immediately lessened. Prowl got his answer as another medic appeared, pushing a small wheeled berth before him. On the berth was a grey sparkling, with red chevron and tiny doorwings. A _Praxian_ sparkling!

"Is he alright?" Jazz asked, woken by their voices. Prowl's visual centre rebooted in shock.

"Yes, he should be," the second medic confirmed. "We will place him in postoperative care unit for the night and if everything is alright, he will be moved to the sparklings' sector tomorrow." He sent them both a small data package with the hospital's map and visiting hours over a short-wave comm. line. "Now go home and get some rest. Same for you, Ratchet, or I'll have these two enforcers _escort_ you to berth! Don't think I won't!"

That earned him a deadly glare from the chevronned mech but in the end the exhausted looking medic complied, albeit reluctantly. Thanking them both, Prowl and Jazz headed home, promising to visit the sparkling the following orn.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for all your reviews, faves and follows!_


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl and Jazz stood before the computer console of Iacon Central Hospital. Normally you only had to enter the designation of the patient you wished to visit and the computer would show you the location but they didn't know the sparkling's name.

"Now what?" Jazz sighed.

"Let's try the information counter," Prowl suggested, pointing to his left.

Jazz nodded and half walked-half danced to the counter. "'Scuse meh, m' mech, we'd like ta visit a sparkling but we don't know his name," he said with one of his famous charming smiles.

The dark blue minibot was not impressed. "Do you have any idea how many sparkling are there in this hospital?"

"Ah brought him 'ere yesterday."

The mech shook his helm in exasperation. "That only reduces your search to 35 sparklings."

Prowl stepped forward. "He's a Praxian. How many _Praxian_ sparklings are there in this hospital?" he asked with subtle sarcasm.

"_Oh_. Just one. Second floor, Sector D, room 201."

They thanked him with a nod and followed the hospital map.

* * *

The name tag of room D201 read

_Sunstreaker (patient)  
Sideswipe (his twin – DO NOT SEPARATE!)  
Unknown Praxian sparkling  
Overseeing medic: Fixit / __Ratchet _t_**E**_**h **ha**T****C**_h_Et

Jazz snickered at the nickname written in messy sparkling glyphs and pinged the door open. The first thing he saw was a red sparkling doing a handstand to amuse the other two occupants of the room – a bright yellow mechlet and the little grey Praxian. Without hesitation Jazz also did a handstand and walked in on his servos.

"Hey there," he grinned at the red mechlet.

"Hey," the sparkling grinned back. "You're cool!"

"Why, thank ya! Ya seem pretty cool yourself. Ah'm Jazz, by the way," he winked and dropped back on his pedes.

"Sideswipe." The red twin followed his lead. "That's my twin Sunny," he indicated the yellow sparkling.

"Don't call me that!" the brightly coloured mechlet glared at his brother who sat down next to him despite having a free berth for himself. "My designation is _Sunstreaker,_ bitbrain."

Jazz smiled at Sunstreaker and turned to the doorwinged sparkling sitting on the third berth. "Hey there, lil' one. Remember meh?"

The mechlet nodded and offered a shy smile.

"There's somebot who's been lookin' forward ta meeting ya..." the black and white enforcer winked and turned to Prowl, who had been standing unnoticed at the doorstep. The sparkling's optics brightened in shock, his doorwings rising and mouth falling open. Pretty much the reaction Prowl had had seeing him yesterday.

"This is Prowl," he introduced his partner, who was looking at him helplessly, unsure what to do.

The sparkling suddenly reached out with both servos and made a grabbing motion.

"He wants ya t' pick 'im up," Jazz translated.

The elder Praxian tensed. "I have never held a sparkling."

"C'mon, Prowler, 's not rocket science. Ya let 'im put his servos 'round your neck, put one servo under 'im to hold his weight and use your free servo for additional stability."

Grateful for clear instructions that were easy to follow Prowl came closer and lifted the mechlet up. The grey Praxian immediately clung to him. It was awkward at first but, much to Prowl's surprise, after a while it felt natural and... quite pleasant. He instinctively rubbed the space between the quivering tiny doorwings to soothe the distressed mechlet.

"D'awww..." Jazz's grin threatened to split his face in two if it got any bigger.

Sunstreaker promptly grabbed a datapad and began sketching furiously. "Don't move. Don't you dare moving!" he warned.

Prowl decided to oblige him.

"So, lil' one, ya got a designation?" Jazz asked.

The mechlet only clung tighter to Prowl. Sideswipe shrugged; Sunstreaker didn't even bother looking up.

"Hmm, what shall we call ya?"

The mechlet flicked his doorwings: _I don't care._

"Oh, I know!" the red twin smirked. "Turbo-puppy! He even looks like one! Oww, Sunny, what was that for?"

"Don't mind him. He's adopted," Sunstreaker remarked and inspected his datapad for damage caused by its contact with his brother's helm. Satisfied that he found none, he resumed sketching.

"How would _you_ call him, glitch-head?"

"Hmm... Silverstreak."

"That's actually a very nice designation, if ya ask meh," Jazz declared. "What d' ya think, lil' one?"

He was answered with an indecisive flutter of grey doorwings.

"Oh, well. How 'bout ya, Prowler? How would ya call yar sparkling?"

The black and white Praxian didn't take long to come up with an answer: "Blues."

"_Blues?_" Sideswipe whispered. "What kind of designation it that?"

"One that goes rather well with 'Jazz', idiot," his brother muttered.

"Oh," the red twin nodded in understanding. Then it clicked. "_Oh!_ Yuck, I'm gonna get some energon. Call me when they're done with the mushy stuff!"

_Mushy stuff _indeed, Jazz agreed. It did feel like he was going to turn into mush any click. Prowl had just implied that he would consider having _sparklings_ with him... That meant Prowler would be willing to _bond_ with Jazz (and make Jazz the happiest bot on Cybertron, cliché as it sounds)! A brief thought flashed through the saboteur's processor – was it possible to die of happiness? Because Jazz sure was dangerously close to finding out...

* * *

Being too young to have a subspace pocket, Sideswipe could only choose between drinking his cube where he was or carry it back to the room. He went with the first option, and dropped the empty cube into the recycler. He automatically grabbed a cube for Sunny before remembering that his twin was supposed to drink that yucky special enriched whatnot, also known as _weird green slime._ With a shrug he headed into the game room to see if he could have some fun before returning. Luck was with him that orn – one of the consoles was free. Sides quickly claimed it for himself. The console contained a vast selection of games for all age groups: tactical, logical, mathematical, puzzles, racing games, shooting games, construction games, chemical reactions simulator, piloting simulations... Not that Sideswipe was interested in any of those. He picked his favourite fighting game at the toughest difficulty.

* * *

"Sideswipe?"

_Left, left... Dodge! Aaand low kick! Ha, take that!_

"-wipe, are you listening?"

"Mhm?" _No... nonono, not there! BLOCK IT, YOU GLITCH! Uff, that was close..._

"How is your brother?"

_Round one winner: Sideswipe. Oh yeah, Sideswipe's the king! Oh, someone was asking him about Sunny. Slag it, couldn't they see he was busy?_ "Better. His tank still aches sometimes but he feels much better now. Finally charged last night." _There. Now leave him be, he had a game to win. Round two was starting._

"...Praxian sparkling? Do you know his designation?"

_What now? JUMP! Meh, lucky glitch. Oh, something about Praxians and designations. He couldn't quite remember. 'Streak' like in Sunstreaker and... some colour? No, Greystreak didn't sound right. A music style! Something to go with Jazz..._ "Blues-Streak or something..."_ Drop-kick!_

"Bluestreak?"

_Yeah, sure, whatever. Just leave already! He was losing, slag it!_ "Mhm..."

"Thank you. I'll stop by later, alright?"

_Fraggin' finally... DODGE, YOU AFT-HEAD! No, that doesn't count! He'd been distracted! Not fair! _

Too bad the computer wasn't accepting complaints.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry I took so long but I accepted some translations outside my work. It's totally not fun to come home from work and start working... But every review, favourited and followed story email from you makes my days better!  
_

* * *

Still holding the sparkling, Prowl turned around as the door opened and an old grey medic entered.

"You moved! Now I'll never be able finish it!" Sunstreaker whined, dejected. He knew from experience that once a model moved, they would never assume the exact same position. Light would reflect under a different angle and Sunstreaker might as well start anew. _What a waste of time!_

He was therefore very pleasantly surprised when Prowl actually managed to freeze in a _perfect_ stance.

"_Stay like that!_"

"As you command," the adult commented dryly.

"Ahem, Sunstreaker?" the medic said as she held up a scanner. "It's time for-"

"_Not now!_ I'm busy! Come back in two joors. Please?"

"Alright, two joors," the medic conceded though it was obvious she wasn't happy with that. "But when I come back you'll either stop drawing or I will take that datapad from you. And don't expect me to return it until you are released home." With that she left to take care of her other patients.

* * *

Two joors passed in blur, with Prowl cradling the little one, Sunstreaker drawing them, and Jazz talking to Sideswipe. When the medic returned, the yellow twin very reluctantly put the datapad down. He would have to add the colouring tomorrow.

Satisfied with the patient's results the medic handed him a cube filled with green liquid.

"Do I have to?" Sunstreaker whimpered, looking miserable.

"Yes," the medic's tone implied that no objections would be accepted.

Heaving a suffering sigh the young patient steeled himself and downed the green slime.

"See? It wasn't that hard now, was it?" the grey medic muttered and turned to other side of the room. "My designation's Fixit. You must be Bluestreak's creators?"

"No, we're not," Jazz hurried to explain. "We're just- Wait, _Bluestreak?_ There ain't a speck of blue on him!"

"I admit I was surprised too but that's what the name tag by the door says."

"It sounds suspiciously like a blend of _Blues _and _Silverstreak_," Prowl voiced his opinion looking at the most likely culprit. Sideswipe made his best "innocent youngling" face. It wasn't very convincing.

Little grey doorwings twitched and fluttered.

"You like it?" the older Praxian asked. The sparkling nodded shyly.

"Alright then! Bluestreak it is!" Jazz grinned. He rather liked that designation.

"Well, Bluestreak, I need to scan you," the medic said with a smile. "Please put him down of the berth."

Prowl tried to comply but the little one refused to cooperate, clinging to the enforcer tightly. "You are being illogical," Prowl sighed. "The medic won't be able to scan you while you're holding on to me."

Jazz could only shake his helm at his lover's antics. "Are ya afraid of scanners, Blue?" he asked, caressing the sparkling's back soothingly. Bluestreak's doorwings flared in a negating motion. "Then what's wrong?" He received no answer.

"Maybe he's afraid that you will leave once he lets go of you," Fixit suggested. "It's not unusual for scared sparklings."

"Then how 'bout ya hold Prowl's servo while she scans ya?" Jazz came up with an idea. "That way he won't be able ta leave."

Reluctantly the little Praxian allowed Prowl to put him on the berth and immediately grabbed on to his servo. He tensed when the medic lifted the scanner and tried to hide behind the larger mech.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, sweetspark," Fixit soothed. "You won't even feel it and it will be over real quick. You don't believe me? Ask Sunstreaker."

The yellow twin shrugged. "Yeah, it kinda tingles but it doesn't hurt or anything."

"See? Now let's get this over with, shall we?"

Squeezing Prowl's servo for reassurance, Bluestreak let the scanner's green light wash over him.

"There, all done. You're healing well, Bluestreak," the medic smiled, handing him a cube of thick white liquid. "Here's your energon." She chuckled seeing his face. "It's a special blend that won't hurt your fuel tank."

Bluestreak took a mistrustful sip and immediately grimaced at the bitter taste but Prowl stroked his doorwing and it felt nice, so he forced himself to drink it because he wanted Prowl to do it again. His engine let out a soft purr when his wish was granted.

Fixit took the empty cube. "The visiting hours are almost over but there are rooms for creators in the C-sector if you would like to stay overnight. I believe room C244 is free at the moment."

Prowl shook his helm. "Thank you for the offer but we have to decline. We both have an early shift tomorrow and it wouldn't be practical if we had to commute all the way from here."

"Actually, love, Ah just changed with Shackles so Ah'm starting later and ya're on holiday. Boss says he doesn't wanna see yar doorwings at the headquarters for at least a groon, and Primus knows ya deserve a break."

Prowl looked at his partner sharply, about to tell him just how much he didn't appreciate Jazz meddling in his affairs behind his back but a pair of blue optics filled with hope stopped him from doing so.

::We'll talk later:: he promised.

Jazz did a rather impressive imitation of Sideswipe's "innocent youngling" face.

* * *

Bluestreak stared at the door to room C244 longingly. It was long past the time he was supposed to be in recharge but his charging protocols wouldn't initiate. He had hoped to sneak in to the room where Prowl and Jazz were staying and recharge there but he couldn't reach the locking mechanism. Even if he could, he didn't know the entry code. He could still ping the door but the chime would wake up the adults and they might send him away. Then again, maybe they _would_ let him stay... _What should he do? _Little doorwings fluttered in frustration.

His musings were interrupted by a sound of footsteps. Bluestreak quickly looked around but the there was nowhere to hide on the deserted corridor. The footsteps were coming closer. He briefly considered running but he knew he wasn't fast enough. _Oh no..._

A young mech with medic's decals emerged from around the corner. Bluestreak had secretly hoped the medic wouldn't notice him but he was immediately spotted.

"Sneaking out of our berth, are we?" the adult asked with a kind smile, crouching down to be on optic level with him. "You want to recharge with your creators?"

_What Bluestreak wouldn't give for creators like Jazz and Prowl..._ He nodded and looked at the big mech hopefully.

"How sweet," the medic whispered and opened the door with an override. "Just don't tell anybot I let you in, okay?"

Bluestreak flared his doorwings in 'thank you' motion. The light from the corridor briefly illuminated the dark room. It contained basic furniture and a double berth with two forms resting on it. One of them had distinctive doorwings twitching in recharge. That was all he needed to see. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He was too young to have a night vision upgrade yet so he simply went by the most recent memory. Taking advantage of his light weight Bluestreak treaded lightly and silently to the berth. He carefully settled down on the ground at Prowl's pedes and prepared to recharge. The floor was hard and cold, and the welds on his stomach were aching. For a moment he regretted having not taken a pillow or at least a blanket with him. But the truth was that the young Praxian was used to recharging on the ground – and if it meant he could recharge by Prowl's side, he would gladly spent every single night of his life without a berth to lie on. Satisfied that he was protected by the two adults, Bluestreak finally fell into recharge. He didn't see the faint light of onlining optics, didn't feel a pair of servos gently lifting him up...

Bluestreak would online joors later resting on Prowl's chest, with a small pillow under his helm, covered by a thermal blanket, and most importantly, safely wrapped in black and white servos.


End file.
